


The Inspiring Tale of How McCree's Crush Somehow Fixes Everything

by Sailmix (Maddening_Tumult)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Pretty much everyone makes an appearance at least once, ageswap, owbigbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9149059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddening_Tumult/pseuds/Sailmix
Summary: In which Genji has bad communication skills, Hanzo has exactly no idea what is going on ever, and Jessie is in awe about how bad his luck is.Or,Genji and Hanzo swap ages. It goes much better than you might expect.Well, except for Jessie McCree.





	

**September 14, 2066 Hanamura, Japan**

_“_ _竜が我が敵を喰らう_ _!”_

It was only out of pure instinct that Genji managed to dodge the surprise attack, tumbling to the side just in time for two angry dragons to wind their way to where he’d once been. Genji jumped back towards his sword automatically, as his mind raced with confusion and denial.

There was only one person those dragons could belong to.

But why? It just wouldn’t click; why was his baby brother attacking him? _And when did he learn to summon his dragons?_ Last he’d checked, Hanzo was barely able to hear them, much less have them manifest. It didn’t make any sense.

“Hanzo?” Genji called out wearily, sword at the ready. Another attack, this time from close range and to his left. He dodged again instead of redirecting the attack— defense, play defense, this is Hanzo, his brother, he couldn’t hurt him. “Hanzo, what’s wrong?”

Another swipe, an no answer; but this time Genji got a good look at Hanzo. He didn’t look harmed; clean untorn clothes and no streaks or red. Not even a bruise to be seen. Then why…?

He hissed and jumped back, clutching slightly at the wound now decorating his side. Distracted. He couldn’t afford any distractions apparently, even though this was Hanzo. No, especially because this was Hanzo. Hanzo knew all his tells and most of his move set; he was predictable to his little brother, and if Hanzo was truly trying to kill him then he needed to concentrate. He narrowed his eyes and darted forward, sword cutting through air on the way to its target, it was dodged, though not without apparent difficulty. Genji was always the faster and more nimble of the two of them, even if Hanzo had more strength behind his blows. Add in experience, and Genji had no idea why Hanzo was even trying. Perhaps he thought the surprise attack would give him an advantage? The wound twinged again, and Genji stumbled when he felt how deep it had gotten.

Hanzo wasn’t entirely wrong, then.

However, he refused to fight at full power against his brother; refused to even contemplate it. There _had_ to be another reason behind Hanzo’s attack. Even if he wasn’t around as much as he could’ve been lately, there was no reason that it should have pushed Hanzo this far. They were brothers, for god’s sake! Close ones, too! Hanzo wouldn’t do this to someone he’d loved as much as he loved Genji, so what was going on?

Hanzo however had apparently gotten far stronger since the last time Genji had seen him (and slowly, another clue was added into the puzzle Genji was denying), and managed to land a couple more hits on his brother. Not that Genji hadn’t retaliated with a few of his own, but only one of them was actually aiming to kill. But either way, the two were too equal; they were at a standstill.

It was after what felt like an eternity of this back and forth that the thought occurred to Genji that no one had come to investigate. The pieces began to filter together. If Hanzo was attacking, refusing to even talk to Genji, if they were in the middle of the complex and no one was coming to see what the source of the noise was, if Hanzo had gotten strong enough to summon his dragons in the short time span that Genji hadn’t seen him, then…

Genji stopped, eyes widening in guilt and horror. _I never should have left him alone,_ he thought, and began to realize just how things had spiraled out of his control. Nothing stays the same forever after all, and Genji had forgotten that he did have one weak point for the elders to exploit in their crusade against him becoming the head of the Shimadas.

_“_ _竜が我が敵を喰らう_ _!”_

And as he took what was likely his last few breaths, and as he slowly blacked out from the blue fire consuming his very being, he thought that he realized that just a little too late.

 

* * *

 

**October 3th, 2076 Eichenwalde, Germany**

The Mission was a bust, and now Hanzo was paying for it.

Genji cut down another 2 turrets, frantically trying to make his way over to the younger Shimada— who at this point was so heavily injured that Genji could see the blood pooling on his shirt even from 20 yards away and in the dead of night. How he was still fighting Genji didn’t know, but the small part of his brain that wasn’t screaming out in panic was proud of how far Hanzo had come as a fighter.

“Tracer, we need back up, now!” He hissed into the comms channel as he dodged another round of bullets.

 _“Working on it! I’m another 10 minutes out!”_ Tracer yelped back. Genji bit back the instinctive urge to snarl at her to hurry up, knowing logically that the fellow Overwatch agent was likely going as fast as she could. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Soldier and McCree attempting to make a path for Lucio and D.Va to get to the archer, with minimal success; McCree was even drawn away by the presence of a sniper, further compounding the difficulties of getting Hanzo out of harm’s way.

This entire mission has been a cluster fuck, Genji thinks to himself distractedly. It should have been a simple escort mission. All they had to do was retrieve the body of an old comrade of Reinhardt’s, and then they were done. Nice and quick— the Intel even said that there were no known defenses still up in the abandoned town, and who would want to prevent someone from retrieving a body for burial, anyway? It was even considered so simple that Mercy was genuinely contemplating giving into Reinhardt’s pleas to let him go with, and likely would have had it not been for his last minute escape attempt re-opening a couple of his wounds.

But what should have taken only a few hours turned into a day long siege when it was discovered that Talon was holing up in Eichenwald, and was most assuredly not impressed with the agents attempting to rescue Balderich von Adler from his current resting place. In fact, it had been going so slowly they had only recently been able to enter the castle itself, mostly thanks to Hanzo’s sniping enough of the agents guarding the doors that D.Va had been able to blow them open.  The entire op was slowly running them all ragged, and it was at this point that Winston ended up having to dispatch Tracer with one of Overwatch’s only cloaked jets, both as further backup and a quick way out if need be. Genji privately thought that neither of the excitable pair had thought of where to park the technology heavy plane in an over forested crumbling town, but at this point he was taking good news where he could get it.

The maneuver that had gained them some ground had unwanted side effects however; in order to be able to get to the agents in the first place, Hanzo had to split off from the rest of the group, which left him vulnerable to surprise attacks— a risk they all decided was necessary, even if Genji didn’t like it (Not that he said that out loud, he wasn’t stupid. His little brother was just as prideful as he was in the past, and Genji couldn’t afford to get back on Hanzo’s shit list again so soon). And it worked; they had started gaining ground at a terrific pace, and were almost completely to their destination when—

Genji heard a cry.

He knew that cry. Every single part of him -even the parts that were no longer flesh and blood, that had never experienced what the rest of him had- froze up in recognition of something he hadn’t heard in literal years, not since the two brothers were little and someone had taken a disliking to the Shimada heirs and their father and had attempted to blow up the building they were in and Genji couldn’t get to Hanzo in time and the cry, the cry his baby brother let out at the burns covering his shoulders and back and the blood on his face, and that _cry_ —

_Hanzo!_

Talon had known of the Japanese sniper as well, the instant the command saw the agent’s guarding the door get downed one after the other by arrows of all things. They also knew that there was only a team of six, and that since all five of them were accounted for, the last was likely the sniper, and was very much alone, with a wall of enemies between them and their compatriots.

After that, it was a rather simple decision.

“Nerf This!” Hearing that had Genji swearing, watching as Hana’s severely damaged mech lit up and blew a chunk of what was left of their enemies sky high, leaving the younger girl without a ton of metal between their bullets and herself. Thankfully, the bulk of their enemies we either already taken out or had fled, abandoning ship and the Baron’s body to Overwatch’s tender mercies in exchange for whatever actually brought them to Eichenwald. But still, there were too many between Genji and Hanzo, and it was becoming clear that Hanzo wouldn’t last much longer if they couldn’t get Lucio to him.

Closer, _Closer!_

He was so close. Only a few more yards and Hanzo would be safe. He would be fine, and he would never have to hear that cry again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Soldier take out the remaining turrets, and McCree honing in on the agents of the other side of Hanzo. Hana was sticking close to Lucio, and the two were almost through-!

Another _cry._

“Hanzo!” Genji screamed, his sword hallway through another Talon agent’s neck as he watched his brother tumble to the ground, legs shorted out by a close range EMP pulse. Another operative closed in on him, gun at the ready and this couldn’t be happening!

Then, everything stilled.

_“It’s high noon.”_

The remaining enemies fell to the ground as Deadeye took its toll, leaving an eerie silence echoing through the castle. Gun smoking, McCree dropped his arm and dropped next to the injured archer, swearing as the after effects of using Deadeye so many times in a row took effect. Genji ignored this, ignored Lucio and Hana sprinting over to the pair, ignored the Soldier securing the perimeter and talking to Tracer over where to park the jet for pick up. He ignored everything in favor of tearing his sword out of the last remaining enemies neck like a bloody sheath and tearing off over to his brother, his baby brother whom he missed dearly and if he lost him now, lost him again before the two could truly reconcile, he never would have forgiven himself.

He skidded to a halt at Hanzo’s side and fell to his knees just as Lucio reached the small group. “Hanzo?” His voice wavered as the Brazilian turned the archer over onto his back, muttering in Portuguese and activating his music. Genji ignored his own injuries healing and McCree’s grumbling in favor of watching for any signs of life on his brother’s face. _“_ _元二_ _馬鹿_ _”_ Hanzo muttered and stirred slightly, but didn’t wake up. Genji felt the tension in his body drop likes stones, a sigh of relief leaving his mouth.

It was enough.

 

* * *

 

**February 28, 2067 Osaka, Japan**

 “Why am I doing this again?”

_“Shh!”_

Jessie scowled at the obvious dismissal and leaned back against the conditioning unit, taking a heavy drag on his cigar. His companion ignored his huffy attitude; instead focusing on the figure below as if they held the secrets to life itself. Jessie rolled his eyes at Genji’s obsessive attentiveness, and instead chose to refocus on the “Mission Objective.”

Which just so happened to be Genji’s younger brother.

Honestly, Jessie’s question wasn’t nearly as rhetorical as it seemed. He genuinely didn’t know how Genji managed to con him into going as his partner in the first place, much less how he _got the damn thing on the mission roster._ The hell? Weren’t there rules against this kind of crap? Maybe he tried to bribe Reyes into making this an official mission, and the boss man found it amusing enough to go along with it. That had to be it, right? Nothing else made a lick of sens—

_“Oof!”_

Jessie bent over and wheezed, attempting to recover from the elbow that had just been planted into his gut. “Pay attention!” Genji muttered absently, his gaze not leaving the figure of his brother creeping through the shadows.

Sitting back up gingerly, Jessie stored his cigar and retook stock of the situation.

1) This “Takashi” guy hired the younger Shimada to take out the head of a rival company, and Blackwatch caught wind of this particular Transaction, capitals included.

2) Genji somehow managed to discover his brother was involved, and not only got this particular mission on the roster, but also assigned it to himself and his chosen “Partner.” Somehow.

3) The mission was not, in fact, to kill or protect the C.E.O., but to watch the situation and see how it develops; which somehow led to…

4) Jessie sitting on a chilly rooftop in the dead of night, unable to see what the hell was going on because the flighty bastard that was the younger Shimada would not stop playing hide-and-seek.

Genji for reasons unknown had actually seemed pleased at this little bit of information, when not knocking out the guards his brother had failed to notice (which technically went against the mission’s parameters, but Jessie wasn’t suicidal. Genji and his weirdly protective attitude can get yelled at when they get back to HQ without him.)

Speaking of, Jessie followed his ornery partner down the roof he recently vacated in time to see him hide the body of yet another guard that the brother had missed. He clicked his tongue.

“That brother of yours ain’t the best at this, is he?” He commented softly, crossing his arms over his chest. Genji didn’t seem thrilled with Jessie’s comment, body tensing up slightly before relaxing with a defeated sigh.

“No,” He admitted. “He was not trained for it like I was.” He stalked down the street before ducking into an alleyway, Jessie following close behind.

“He’s doing okay, for a newbie.” Jessie’s attempts at comfort were never the best, and based on the slump of Genji’s shoulders this one fell short of the mark too. Jessie frowned and took a step forward, intending to go deeper into the alleyway’s shadows. Before he could though an alarm sounded and the pair jumped, hands going straight for their weapons. Genji swore and took off back towards the roof, with Jessie following as fast as he could on the fire escape. He cursed the Shimadas and their ninja tendencies. As soon as he reached the top he was pulled behind the conditioning unit just in time to avoid being spotted by the younger brother jumping onto their little roof. The pair held perfectly still in an attempt to avoid drawing the man’s attention towards their hiding spot. They didn’t have to wait for long however, as with a short curse and the sound of nearby gunshots the brother took off towards the nearby piers— likely intending to lose his pursuers among the myriad of ships and cargo.

They both breathed a sigh of relief before making their way back down the building and after the younger Shimada, hoping to off a few of the pursuers long enough for the brother to escape. Jessie trailed behind Genji however, thoughts spinning wildly as he tried to cope with what he had just learned.

“McCree, hurry!” Genji hissed, steadily gaining more ground as the raced after his brother. Jessie nodded absently and picked up his pace, fingering his revolver. One thought stayed with him however even after he hurried after his friend.

_Oh no, the brother is hot._

 

* * *

 

**March 29th, 2076 Gibraltar, Spain**

Being back in Overwatch was weird.

Not that he was ever part of the old Overwatch itself, but this version of the organization had a different… feel to it. It was lighter than the last one, the one run by old Jack Morrison and his superiors. Happier and more hopeful and far, far more determined. Jessie could almost feel at home here, were it not for the ghosts haunting his every step the second he stepped foot onto Gibraltar.

Sometimes, the ghosts were living. Like Lena, Winston, Reinhardt, Angela, and even Mei, whose very presences he’s chafed at lately. Other times it was the dead, like Morrison and Reyes, Ana, and even more dead and gone agents whose names and faces he’s forgotten over the years. Sometimes he sees them when he turns around a corner, a glimpse in the corner of his eye; others, he’ll hear their voices echoing in the distance over the crashing of the waves on the beach of the base. It’s begun to make him twitchy, and so he’s started spending his own free time (all 24/7 of it while they wait for the last of the recalled agents to make their way to the last stronghold) either in the shooting range or the rec room, laughing and joking with ghosts and people alike.

The new kids help; Lucio irritates him a little, his optimism and personality feeling a lot more like naïveté and ignorance to his rougher and more bitter thoughts; but the singer hides a smart and brave mind under all of that niceness, and now after all of the time spent in the same room he’s starting to grow on Jessie a little. And D.Va— D.Va reminds him a little of Fareeha when she was younger, all curiosity and spunk and taking exactly no prisoners. The two of them anchor him a bit; remind him that this isn’t 10 years ago in a world spanning organization on the brink of falling apart, but a future that’s looking grim and that needs his ass to help save it.

God, they’re growing on him like leeches.

And he’s starting to get sentimental. He feels old.

 The other new recruits he hasn’t gotten to know very well yet— only arriving in the last week or so. Zarya is here on behalf of Volskaya industries, who’ve agreed to support the new organization in the UN should their presence be discovered in an… unseemly way. Jessie’s quoting Winston of course. Vaswani is here after being recruited by Lucio of all people, too horrified by the company she grew up in to support it any longer, even if her beliefs hadn’t really changed. Zenyatta was here on behalf of Numbani, for a similar reason to Zarya, though the reason for it being Zenyatta specifically was because Genji recommended him.

Speaking of Genji, supposedly his old friend had gone out to bring out their last official recruit; he refused to tell anyone who it was, and as when he left pretty much everyone on base had gotten involved in a terrifyingly competitive game of team poker nobody had the slightest idea of where he was going or when he’d get back. Ordinarily, Jessie wouldn’t be worried; Genji had long ago proven that he could handle himself even in the worst situations, and Jessie wasn’t going to sully that image with needless worrying. But it had been well over two weeks, and with him and whoever the new recruit he was bringing being the last two agents to be recalled, Jessie was starting to get… antsy.

His train of thought was derailed when a bag or corn chips nailed him directly in the face, followed shortly by a chorus of laughter from all points in the room.

“Driftin’ there, aren’t ya love?” Lena crowed, a giant smile on her face and her cards clutched close to her chest. Jessie scowled at the woman, before being distracted by nearly choking on his own tongue as a strong hand slapped his back roughly.

“Das Mädchen got you well, McCree!” Reinhardt boomed. His laugh was like a train horn going off right next to Jessie’s ear, and he winced slightly. Finally though he picked up on what Reinhardt had said, and switched his glare over to the final person of this game; Hana. The gamer has a wide grin on her face, and a pile of won goodies sitting behind her from all of her wins.

“Your turn, Cowboy.” Her grin turned into a smirk and Jessie had never felt such hatred over a game of Go Fish before. It’s not like he had a chance of winning; he only had one completed set, while the others had at least three. Hana had a whopping 5, leaving her the sure winner of the game. 

After that last disastrous game of poker, wherein they’d almost broken the Rec Room and that entire side of the compound in the ensuing fight, poker had joined other lovely games such as Monopoly and Sorry on the wall of ‘Banned-from-Overwatch-on-Pain-of-Death.’ The only reason all other cards games card games and the various forms of betting on them hadn’t been banned as well was because Winston had enough experience to know that banning that many forms of entertainment would only lead to… escalation. Jessie would have been more surprised that Winston had that kind of foresight, had it not been for his involuntary involvement in the last attempt at banning card games from Overwatch.

Jessie scoffed at the last thought and tossed his cards down, stumbling up from his place on the floor. “I’m getting a drink,” He called back roughly to his fellow players, and ignored the sudden drop in mood.

Too many ghosts, here.

It was at this point in time, halfway through his attempt at getting a cup of coffee from the tiny kitchen that the Rec room had that a small commotion started up from the nearby hallway. Jessie exchanged confused looks with his fellow agents; the only people not in the room at the moment were Winston and Fareeha, who were supervising a shipment of ammunition from Fareeha’s former employers— and neither of them had a habit of being this noisy. Not on their own at least.

The clamoring starting growing closer, and soon voices could be made out. One of which was definitely Winston, and another Fareeha. But of the other two:

One of them was Genji’s.

Abruptly the door opened, and the new arrivals streamed in. Winston, then Genji, followed by…

Followed by…

Oh no.

Jessie barely noticed Fareeha bringing up the rear, too focused on the new comer to notice her or the loud argument growing between her and Genji over something or another.

 “Pharah, Genji, enough.” Winston said firmly, cutting of the argument before it could grow further. He then turned his attention to the rest of the room.

_Oh No._

“Overwatch,” no. “Our last new recruit has arrived.” No. “I’ll leave Genji to introduce him.”

_Fuck._

Geni stepped forward, oblivious to Jessie’s inner turmoil and the hot coffee threatening to spill over the top of the plastic cup. He gestured to the Japanese man standing next to him. “I would like everyone to meet my brother, Hanzo.”

_He’s even hotter._

 

* * *

 

**December 2nd, 2067 Geneva, Switzerland**

_Shit._

This is the first- and only- thought running through Genji’s head when the Commanders entered the breakroom. Reyes was looking more intimidating than ever— every inch the super soldier that that was usually hidden behind his reserved and almost soft spoken manner. Morrison wasn’t far behind, though he looked far less amused and more irritated than Genji usually saw from the Overwatch commander and was he drunk?

Despite the gut wrenching feeling that somehow he was the current source of their problems, Genji found himself distracted by the light blush Morrison had, along with a slightly unsteady gait that he hid rather well by walking almost shoulder to shoulder with Reyes; not that it was good enough to hide from Genji, with the amount of observational training he had as a child. Still, the fact that Morrison was stressed enough to drink outside of an Overwatch party, or even the confines of his or Reyes’ office had Genji watching in horrified fascination.

This of course had the effect of him missing his fellow agents ducking for cover as Reyes’s gaze swept over the room and locked onto Genji’s form, leaving the cyborg on the couch alone to deal with the annoyed commanders.

“Shimada,” Reyes said, his arms crossed over his chest. Morrison stood behind him, a long suffering look in his eyes at spoke of how little he wanted to be here. Genji would have gulped if he was able to.

_Double Shit._

“Yes, Commander?” Good going, Genji. He thought to himself, and a small -and hysterical- voice rambled on about how that thought would have rhymed in English and wow, that was hilarious, wasn’t it? The rest of him was cursing himself for showing any weakness, as though he was prey standing before an aggressive predator.

“We need to talk.”

_Triple shit._

Anyone who had some sense of self-preservation jumped towards the nearest exit, leaving only Oxton, Reinhardt, and a pained looking Angela behind to watch the ensuing trainwreck.  Genji envied them dearly for being able to see this as hilarious. Reyes, having taken Genji’s silence as his agreement walked over to a white board near the fridge and un-hooked it from the wall, and proceeded to walk back to the coffee table Genji was seated in front of and dropped it roughly onto the table.

“This has gone way too far.” Reyes announced clearly, as though talking to an unruly crowd rather than a single, utterly terrified agent. Genji’s mind was still not working quite properly, and so it took a few moments to realize what Reyes was gesturing too.

_FUCK._

Genji had hoped that this wouldn’t come to either of the commander's’ attention, and for the past few months was vilified when neither had commented on the abrupt regularity that his and his companions… excursions had taken. In fact, by that point in time he had taken it for granted that neither had anything to say on it at all, and had assumed it would stay that was. Genji could feel his hopes and dreams come crashing down around his head now, as staring him in the face was the fact that Morrison and Reyes had indeed found the schedule that Winston and Oxton had taken the liberty of setting up, so as to make it easier to arrange more official missions around it. In retrospect, Genji realized that he really shouldn’t have expected anything less, considering that it was in the breakroom of all places.

Nothing stays secret in the breakroom. Nothing.

“Ahh,” he stuttered, brain still not working properly.  Reyes took advantage of his lap in cognizance to grab his arm and pull him out of the room, with Morrison following shortly behind. The door closed to Reinhardt and Oxton’s laughter, and a pained groan prom Angela. The three made their way to Reyes’ office, presumably because it was closer to the breakroom than Morrison’s was (and also, a small voice in the back of Genji’s mind that sounded oddly like his father, there was less of a chance for listening devices). The walk was both far too long and terrifyingly quick, and soon the three were entrenched in the surprisingly light room.

Genji gingerly took the seat that was “Offered” to him.

A few minutes pass, the three of them staring each other town while the tension in the air grew ever thicker— Reyes seated at his desk, and Morrison almost standing guard over the door, looking for all the world like he didn’t want to be dealing with this.

Finally, Reyes sighed and put his head in his hands, causing Genji to relax.

“Genji, _why?”_ He groaned out loud, sounding so very done with life at the moment. Genji almost felt bad for him, but experience with this tone of voice from his father had trained him out of ever feeling anything but satisfaction over hearing that type of resignation— satisfaction, and a little bit of dread. Genji rubbed his neck sheepishly before replying.

“He’s my little brother, sir.”

Reyes lifted his head a little to glare at Genji through his fingers. “And I wouldn’t normally have a problem with that,” he said. “But what I do have a problem with you not only using other agents to stalk –yes it’s stalking; don’t try to argue that, you’re stalking your brother- someone outside of a mission, _but also using Overwatch assets to do so.”_ Genji flinched as he figured out the reason behind Morrison’s admittedly drunk involvement in this debacle despite his and Reyes’ falling out.

Reyes finally put his hands down and stared at the Blackwatch agent under his command. “This ends now,” he stated clearly, his tone brokering no argument. Genji straightened up subconsciously. “All activities monitoring Hanzo Shimada using Overwatch assets are to cease immediately, until such time as it’s deemed necessary. Is that understood, agent Shimada?”

“Yes, sir.” Genji replied glumly. Then he paused, tilting his head as he went through the entire spiel. “But does that mean that _I_ can…?”

Reyes got up and walked toward the door just as Morrison opened it, the two of them clearly intending to go back to whatever drinking incident they had started up before this. “Overwatch assets, Shimada. Overwatch assets.”

The door closed behind him, and Genji _smiled._

 

* * *

 

**March 21st, 2076 Hanamura, Japan**

He found him.

_He found him._

Hefoundhimhefoundhim _hefoundhim-!_

Calm. He needs to calm down. He’s a master of stealth, of his body of flesh and metal, and he controls it, not the other way around. And it wouldn’t do to get caught at this point in time, not when he’s so _close-!_

Calm.

Genji followed the figure darting through the shadows, keen eyes taking in the fluid movements and silent steps that spoke of both training and long hard experience. _He’s improved._ he thought fondly, pride almost swelling in his hearts before being hidden behind years of training and professionalism. This was still a mission, and though it might be one he assigned himself he wouldn’t act any less than his best.

He jumped to the next roof, gleaming metal limbs hidden in dark shadows, darker than those that the figure below him stepped through .(Genji was always the better of the two at stealth, and didn’t it feel good to be able to think about that again and not-

Calm.)

One Shimada agent taken down, and then another and another. He’d been practicing since Genji had last seen him, and it had paid off quite nicely. Silently the figure walked into the open room, before kneeling in front of the broken sword and lighting incense.  Slowly, methodically, as though this was for a god rather than a human, a brother, a victim-

No. Genji had gotten over that. Had understood just what had happened to his brother, what he hadn’t deigned to pay attention to. He was just as much a victim as Genji was, and so he wouldn’t dishonor their relationship by blaming him for something that he had been pressured and brainwashed into.

Calm.

Closer. Genji edged closer, lighting system carefully hidden, and perhaps his flair for dramatics was making a comeback in the form of a rather over-the-top hiding place, but at this point he didn’t care. Enjoyed it even, the return of a part of him he had long thought lost.

Hopefully not the only lost thing to return tonight.

A twitch of his shoulder muscles and Genji cursed himself silently, knowing he was caught. Hanzo had always been good at knowing and sensing everything in his proximity, and it seemed his sensitivity had only grown with age. It likely helped that Genji wasn’t as careful as he could have been, considering his whole goal was to talk with the kneeling man.

“You were not the first assassin sent to kill me,” the man spoke softly, voice almost rough with disuse. “And you will not be the last.”

( _Arrogant as usual,_ that same bitter voice commented, but Genji reminded it that Hanzo had every right to be this confident and it fell silent. Good. He was done with listening to it.

Calm.)

Genji dropped down silently, foregoing hiding his lighting systems in favor of making a hopefully familiar dramatic appearance. “You were bold to come here,” He commented lightly, not bothering to keep his voice soft. After all, a dead man can speak however loud he wants at his own memorial. “To the castle of those who sought to kill you.” And wasn’t Genji still bitter about finding that out.

Another muscle twinge. Has he realized? “I lived here, once.” A hand reached for a bow. Apparently not. “Did you masters not tell you who I was?!”  And there was that temper, shooting at someone for nothing more than a perceived slight. Genji was almost ready to scold playfully, to push the envelope of Hanzo’s memories, but the part of him that was crowing yes yes, we finally see him was drinking in the sight of his brother, now less than a few feet away from him.

Genji’s first thought after seeing his little brother for the first time in 6 years is _Wow, he’s gotten taller._

 His second: _I’m so glad I convinced Angela to up my height._

 His third? _Wait, is that grey hair?_

 His fourth is _Where the fuck are his legs?!_

Genji absently dodged the arrow whizzing towards him, still focused on the prosthetics that weren’t there the last time he saw the younger man. “I know who you are, little brother.” He spoke absently, rage warring with experience, Protective anger with ingrained calm.

calm.

Calm.

_Calm-_

A roar of rage, and a barrage of arrows coming straight for him.  _“Do not call me that!”_

 _Shit._ He said the thing. Genji though had experience with missions, self-assigned or otherwise going sideways and despite his inability to keep his thoughts in order he forced himself to roll with it.

“I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me, Hanzo.” He commented lightly, jumping out of the way of another barrage of arrows. Where’d he learn to do that, anyway? “I’ve changed a lot since we last saw each other.” It hurt, to see his little brother flinch like that, but he needed to have Hanzo recognize him. If this whole crazy plan were to work out, he needed Hanzo to know that he wasn’t dead, that his little brother hadn’t killed him, and that he could move on with his life. To move onto a better life.

Another arrow missed, but this one wasn’t nearly as close a call, Genji barely even moved, watching as Hanzo froze in apoplectic rage— string still drawn, still positioned to release a dangerously sharp arrow, but eyes that poke of being elsewhere and elsewhen, and Genji curse.

“Hanzo?” he called out, hoping that he hadn’t just caused his brother to go into a flashback. He had almost taken a step forward when Hanzo’s eyes snapped towards him, and his tattoos began to glow. Genji cursed again, but for a different reason.

_“_ _竜が我が敵を喰らう_ _!”_

Twin dragons, whom Genji had only seen once before, roared their master’s fury as they wound their way towards him. Behind his visor Genji narrowed his eyes and drew his sword, his own green glow brightening in response.

_“_ _竜神の剣をくらえ！_ _”_

The twin dragons changed direction, following their green elder brother back towards their master. Hanzo’s eyes widened and he only had a split second to brace himself before the trio knocked him off his feet and onto his back.

Genji waited, the dragons dissipating in the early morning mist. Hanzo didn’t move. Slowly genji made his way over to the younger man, crouching over him and watching as he groaned and opened unfocused eyes.

“Now do you believe?” He commented lightly, though his thoughts were anything but. At this close of a distance he could finally see the changes and trials that his little brother had gone through, both from when Genji was watch over him, and when he was not. It wasn’t pretty, and out of the corner of his eye the gleam of the largest of these injuries called to him. He ignored it, if only barely.

The two stared at each other for a while, sun slowly climbing out of the pit of night, though the stars still shined down on them. Genji was content to stay like this until Hanzo had collected his thoughts, content to drink in all of the changes and events that he had missed in Hanzo’s life, even if it was a bitter pill to swallow.

Obviously Hanzo had other ideas however, and soon Genji was scrambling backwards as a fist slammed into his visor. “Wha-?!” He cried out, hand gently removing the shattered visor. Hanzo slowly sat up, his face somehow looking both placidly calm and still managing to send a spark of terror down Genji’s spine. It was like looking at his mother after he had taken him and Hanzo out of the castle without telling anyone to go to arcade.

“I thought I killed you.” Hanzo stated plainly, as if talking about the weather. His eyes however had started to glow an eerie blue, that only furthered the similarities between Hanzo and the former Shimada matriarch. Genji shifted slightly, unused to his own eyes being on display after all this time. He looked away from his younger brother. “Ah, yes…”

_“I thought you were dead.”_

“I wasn’t, though?” He offered up, a small and older part of him basking in the similarities to their childhood, to Hanzo berating his older brother for being so dumb, and to Genji laughing off his a noogie and a promise of ice cream later. The larger part of him saw that Hanzo’s rage was only growing, and flinched at the second set of poor word choice that Genji has spouted in the last day alone.

Calm-?

A twitch of a single eye, and Genji was already attempting to scramble up and out of the way when his brother lunged for him in a rage fueled attempt at trying to re-kill the cyborg.

“ _Why didn’t you tell me?!”_

Genji flinched between dodging the clumsy and surprisingly strong punches, and told that bitter and vengeful part of himself to keep quiet preemptively; because this was one murder attempt that Genji probably deserve.

Oh boy, was _this_ going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

**July 18th, 2069 Hà Nội, Vietnam**

Jessie was done. He was so, so done.

The mission was a bust— Intel was wrong and the target and objective weren’t even there, much less together like they were originally supposed to be. No, instead there was an explosive that he had just barely cleared before it went up like a beacon, calling every authority around like a moth to a flame. Worse, it was Vietnam,;a country that Overwatch technically wasn’t supposed to be in, so that doubly made this OP a travesty. And seeing as he’s the only one who made it out alive he’s the one who gets saddled with the blame.

Along with a missing arm, because of course.

Waking up to a new and yet familiar looking ceiling wasn’t fun. Waking up alone was odd, but not unwelcome. Finding a disciplinary summons from both Blackwatch and their ‘UN Oversight’ was definitely unexpected if unsurprising, and sealed the deal.

Jessie McCree needed out.

Over the years Jessie had noticed how much Overwatch –and by extension, Blackwatch- had changed. No longer was it full of people working to save, of people looking to help the world even if it meant lowering to the bad guy’s level— now it was more full of pencil pushers and law followers and UN agents rather than any sort of good people. There were exceptions of course. Tracer, Winston, even Genji. But…

Even Angie was getting tired, getting overworked and disillusioned. And for all that the other three pretended not to notice how everything was falling apart and how the public was turning against them, how even the UN was turning against them, even they noticed things were changing. And not for the better.

But most of all, the biggest deciding factor was how Morrison and Reyes were at each other’s’ throats. These weren’t quiet disagreements behind closed doors; oh no. Now it was full blown arguments that might be few and far between, but not even envoys from the UN itself were dumb enough to get between one of their blowouts. It had gotten so bad that they had almost stopped treating their agents like people, and more like pawns to move against one another.

Well. He’s exaggerating. But those were the rumors he could hear spreading throughout the twin organizations, and he didn’t survive the fall of the Deadlock gang with no instincts and intelligence. Something was going to give, and soon. He needed out. Now.

Jessie gingerly touched the stump of a left arm he now had, wincing as the slightest of pressure caused bolts of pain to shoot up his arm. _Looks like the pain killers wore off,_ he thinks to himself. He looks again at the crumpled address clutched in his remaining hand, making sure he was on the right track. The empty sleeve of his jacket swayed with his movement as he walked down the busy and cluttered alleyway, which at this late hour was filled with undesirables. Under his hood Jessie glared a pickpocket off, and with a wide-eyed shiver they fled.

He only had one contact this far out that would side with him and not tell Blackwatch, and somehow they managed to get him into contact with a local underground doctor that, if he was careful, he could make it to with none of his minders the wiser. It’d taken some doing, getting out of the hidden base without alerting security, and he’d needed to leave behind a lot of his supplies and weapons to do so but—

But it looked like he was in the clear.

His stump twinged again, and Jessie breathed a sigh of relief when he came upon the ramshackle building that his contact said the good doctor was in. He knocked on the door and a young boy opened it slightly, only a glaring eye visible in the crack.

 _“Mày muốn cái gì?”_ The brat spat out, not even bothering with English. Jessie didn’t know much Vietnamese, but his contact had made damn sure that he knew enough for this transaction, at least.

 _“Ta tới đây để nói chuyện với Nguyễn về trái thạch lựu của họ”_ He said, and his tongue stuttered over forming the unfamiliar words. Though his accent was atrocious, the kid understood. Or at least heard the phrase often enough to recognize it even with an awful accent.

 _“Tại sao Nguyễn nên gặp mày?”_ The kid said suspiciously, still opening the door a little further.

 _“Ta có tiền”_ A staring contest then, before the kid sighed grudgingly and opened the door. Jessie walked in ignoring the slamming and bolting of the door behind him.

“Stay here, sit down.” The kid said in lilting English before stomping off to go get the good doctor. Jessie gingerly sat down, out of view of the shuttered windows. He slumped into the ratty chair and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the city, and his freedom.

Suddenly a hand whipped against his head and he bolted awake, hand attempting to go for his weapon before he realized –rather painfully- that particular arm was gone. He looked up, and a tall long haired person in a white lab coat stood before him, glaring viciously. Behind the nearby stairwell he could see the kid snickering. Damn brat.

“So you’re the westerner Hoàng said had the cash,” They folded their arms over their chest. No accent, but considering who was standing in front of him it wasn’t unsurprising.

Jessie rubbed his head. “I got Miranda’s cash,” he offered, and an eyebrow climbed up before Dr. Nguyễn sighed and roughly took him by his arm.

“Damn westerner, always giving me the troublesome ones,” They grumbled and guided Jessie down the stairs to their actual lab. “Why am I friends with them again?” The doctor trailed off into vicious sounding Vietnamese, the kid behind him snickering all the while. Jessie couldn’t understand a lick of it, but at this point he didn’t care.

He was free.

 

* * *

 

**January 12th, 2076 Cortez, Colorado**

Jessie stared at his phone in bafflement, looking at all the calls and messages from one particular number that poured in over the last 30 minutes.

What the hell?

He was honestly surprised that he got any at all; minus the occasional spam call, he got nothing. He only kept the phone for the occasional texts from his various contacts— and none of them called in anything more than an emergency; certainly not more than once.

To be fair, it’s entirely possible that it might be one of them; he’d had his phone off for the past day or to, so it wasn’t unreasonable that something had happened and they were trying to get his attention, but…

The texts though.

_Jessie, it’s lovely to see you’re still alive!_

_Jessie, helloooo, you there, love?_

_Jessie, Jessie, Jessiejessiejessie_

_Jessie I got something to tell you~_

_You there, Jessie McCree?_

How in the hell did Lena get his number?

Jessie sat down on the fencepost, and fingered the phone, trying to decide whether to just ignore the messages or call Lena back. The choice ended up being made for him however as almost immediately another call came in from the former pilot. Jessie sighed and rubbed his forehead, but answered anyway.

Almost immediately a barrage of words came over the line.

“Jessie, finally I’ve been calling for hours! Did you hear the news?! No if you weren’t answering me you probably didn’t. Well, that’s great for me I guess, cause you’ll never guess, but—“

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down Cowgirl! I can’t understand a word coming out of that mouth of yours.”

A silence over the line, and Jessie covered his mouth as he realized what he just said.

“Shut up.” He said preemptively, as he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Aww, Jessie, I haven’t heard that nickname in ages.” He could hear the grin in her voice, and Jessie cursed silently.

“Shut _up,_ Oxton. What’d you want?” He said roughly.

He could almost see the pout, but she caved and continued on. “I get the feeling you didn’t see,” she started, and Jessie could already tell he didn’t like where this was going. “But since Winston’s still pretty sure you have your communicator, you should turn it on! I think you’ll find something really interesting on there.”

Jessie opened his mouth but before he could reply—

“Cripes, I’ve got to go, love! Helping Winston out with moving supplies into Gi— well, you’ll find out. Talk to you later!”

Without another word, Lena hung up and Jessie was left staring at a mercifully silent phone. Lena always exhausted him, but he didn’t remember how much until just now.

There was silence for a long while, as Jessie not only attempted to absorb the fact that he talked to a former Overwatch member for the first time in nearly a decade, but also debated on checking his hidden communicator like she asked him to. He will admit that he had the damn thing, if only for nostalgia purposes; but he hasn’t had it on of literal years, and at this point would be surprised if it even turned on at all, much less worked with no Overwatch to support it.

Another moment of hesitation, before curiosity won over logic yet again and he turned it on.

As it booted up though his phone began to vibrate constantly as another barrage of messages came in, and when he glanced through he saw that it was yet more texts from past friends; Reinhardt, Genji and even Fareeha. Jessie was bewildered. What the hell was going on?

Finally though the communicator finished booting up, and Jessie saw just what got everyone so excited. And with it he sighed and gave up on not joining in on the fun, making way for the nearest airport he could sneak in on.

Next stop Gibraltar, and the newly reformed Overwatch.

Just as the recall asked.

 

* * *

 

**December 4th, 2069 Hà Nội, Vietnam**

Hanzo had no idea how this situation got so bad.

Barely even a month ago he was doing just fine; take one of the myriad of jobs offered to him, kill the poor sap of a target, get paid, rinse and repeat. Occasionally there were the long weeks in-between missions he needed in order to recover from injuring himself in some form or fashion, but those were few and far between. It was a nice and busy schedule that kept him from thinking too much about anything— whether it be about the past, his steady descent into alcoholism, or that hair-raising feeling of eyes on the back of his neck that he’d had for going on four years now.

Now that he thought about it –while hiding behind a stack of warehouse crates, clutching his bloody shoulder- things started going awry around the same time that the feeling of being watched had disappeared. Not exactly at the same time granted; as the feeling only came around whenever he had a job (which only made him more paranoid about dodging his non-existent pursuers),  but the contracts he took in the last few weeks have all gone spectacularly wrong in some form or fashion. Take the current one for example: It should have been easy enough, get in, take out a politician and his wife, get out. The security was in retrospect suspiciously laughable, the building simple to navigate. Child’s play, for someone with his kind of training. What he gets instead however is a clusterfuck; a team of mercenaries protecting the parliament member, a surprising amount of explosives, and the simple fact that one of his targets wasn’t there.

He would have cursed himself for not doing more research than his usual cursory glance through the mission details –and in fact still did, though only for his pride- but it was the moment he spotted the Shimada sigil on some of the mercenaries necks that he realized there likely was a reason that the actual situation had turned out so differently from the information he was given. He of all people should know how thorough the Shimada family was when capturing their targets.

So yes, it was at this point that Hanzo had realized he had gone lax, and that those close calls he’d had for nearly 5 weeks now what been the Shimada catching up to him; not that it did any good, as at this point it would take a miracle for him to get out of this situation, much less complete the botched mission that at this point was more of a set up than an actual mission— and he knew what awaited him if he didn’t. Death would be a mercy compared to going back to his family now. Another series of clicks and Hanzo flinched slightly, hand going back to his case of arrows. Only three left.

Really not good.

Granted it’s not as if he could have fired his arrows anyway, one eye swollen shut from a badly dodged fist and a useless arm due to a bullet to his shoulder. But useless bad news was still bad news when piled on top of other bad news.

He might have a concussion as well, but that was neither here nor there.

He frowned suddenly, realizing that with the state he was in that his enemies should have found him already. That they hadn’t was worrisome, and usually spoke of a reluctance to get near the area he was hiding in. Which meant…

Hanzo shot up as fast as he could, suddenly recognizing where the clicks were coming from and what they meant for him. A little too late however, as the delayed response from his concussed brain to his legs only had him tipping over mid lunge and left him at the mercy of the explosives embedded inside the crates he was leaning against.

Blackness.

He had no idea how long he was out, in that frighteningly hot abyss. Later memories would tell him it couldn’t have been too long, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived. Still, it felt like an eternity before twin whispers, insistent and urgent told him that he needed to open his eyes right now. It was a struggle to do so, and a large part of him wanted to just give up; however even in pain and barely conscious Hanzo knew the fate he would be left with if he was recaptured by his family, and even in this state he was desperate to do his very utmost to defy them once more.

Even if it was just staring his captors in the face when they took him away.

Blurs in the colors of the Shimada mercenaries stood over him and Hanzo’s heart dropped, but he stood firm and tried his best to level one final glare at them. Suddenly they startle into motion and he thinks he can see a hand reaching towards him before it suddenly jumps out of range with the echo of a strangely far away gunshot. Silence, and slowly his vision starts to fade to blackness and pain again, though he struggled to keep his eyes open in the face of death.

A red and brown blur showed up then, in his darkening vision. It was like nothing he’d ever seen— definitely not from his family. If it was an assassin, Hanzo thought, at least they would be kind enough to kill him.

As his eyes slipped shut one last time, he thought he could hear something beyond the ringing in his ears.

_“….Go…u…par…ner.”_

 

* * *

 

**December 20th, 2069 Hà Nội, Vietnam**

Hanzo’s first thought after waking up was this:

_Wow, I’m alive._

His second was: _Wait, how am I alive?_

His third? _What exactly are those stains on the ceiling?_

His fourth was, _Why can’t I feel my legs?!_

The third thought was of course an exception to Hanzo’s general line of thought— he could already tell he was on some truly magnificent drugs, some of which he hadn’t felt since before he’d left his family and could regularly afford them. That also might explain the tangents he could already feel his mind racing off too. But regardless, the single thing that continually arrested his attention was—

_He couldn’t feel his legs._

The immediate freakout that this tidbit of terrifying information caused would have been immense, if not for the timely distraction that came with the fist impacting his already bruised torso, causing him to lose his breathe.

“Calm down, you ninny. You’re going to be fine.”

It was a voice in almost accentless English, cold and irritated and nothing he’d ever heard before. He didn’t know whether to consider that unfamiliarity a good or bad thing, considering that both options had uncomfortable connotations.

His eyes had already been difficult to peel open, and even more so to focus on the dark blur that hovered above him. “Wha-?” He slurred, and frowned at the difficulty of forming words; his concussion was worse than he thought.

A sigh, and a finger poked between his eyes, causing him to go cross-eyed.

“Welcome to the land of the living,” whomever it was said boredly. “I’m your generous host, the foremost and only underground doctor on this side of Vietnam. Currently you’re suffering from one of the worst concussions I’ve ever seen, a severe case of tinnitus, and an even more severe case of burns on your back and what’s left of your legs.” They took a breath and clapped their hands together.

“Congratulations, you just won the ‘I’m-a-miracle-patient-from-hell’ lottery! You win a chance to pay me big cash for saving your ass!”

Idly Hanzo thought that would explain why everything sounded like it was underwater, and the ringing besides. Most of his limited brainpower was focusing on a specific set of words.

“Legs…?”

A pause, and Hanzo could almost make out a grimace. “Yes, boy. What’s left. That explosion of yours blew everything below the knee caps clean off. You’re lucky I could save as much as I did.”

His legs are gone.

_His legs are gone._

Hanzo dropped into a fugue state, unable to process this information but refusing to panic in front of an unknown entity. His thoughts circled around in his head. How would he make a living now? He could get prosthetics, but where would he get them? Would they be good enough to continue in his work? Or would he simply be captured as soon as he tried to escape the area, being unable to move without assistance?

This continued in loops, thoughts progressively becoming drenched in more and more despair. He was, for the first time truly in his life, terrified. Before now he could still fight. Even if everything was awful and left him with no choice he could still fight. Now, though?

Now he was useless. Now he couldn’t protect himself, and Hanzo didn’t know what to do.

Thankfully, it seemed like his gracious host was as irritable as they seemed, and put a stop to his panicking –for that was what is was, regardless of Hanzo’s opinion on the matter- via another swift punch to his battered ribs.

_“Enough.”_

Hanzo coughed violently, his chest feeling like the Shinkansen hit it at full force. How in the world did they do that?

Another sigh. “Look. I don’t normally do this, but… the guy that brought you in? Already paid me.” Hanzo didn’t catch his breath so much as stop breathing altogether, attempting to focus on the speaker. He still didn’t know their name.

They continued, looking for all the world like they were in considerable pain. “That thing I said earlier? About you paying me? That was for the prosthetics he asked me to make, along with the PT to get you to the point to use them. Damn bleeding heart was stubborn about that. Me? I would have just thrown you out altogether, whether you could’ve used them or not.”

Hands gripped his shoulders and Hanzo still couldn’t remember how to breathe. Someone found him? Someone paid for an underground doctor to help him? Who? And Why?” His train of thought stopped there however as the figure gave was likely the most terrifying smile that he had ever seen.

“So! I suppose since we’ll be spending a lot of time together, we should know each other’s names. I already know yours, but…”

The grin got impossibly wider.

“You can call me Dr. Nguyễn.

Maybe death would have been a mercy.

 

* * *

 

**October 8th, 2076 Gibraltar, Spain**

Hanzo’s first thought after waking up was this:

_Wow, I’m alive._

_His second was: Wait, how am I alive?_

His third _? What exactly are those stains on the ceiling?_

His fourth was, _Is that McCree’s hat?_

Hanzo couldn’t help but stare at the offending object at his bedside. It just didn’t make sense, and his drug addled mind struggled to put any pieces together at all. Why was it here? Where was its owner? And why isn’t it on his head?

All rather odd questions, but Hanzo thinks he could be forgiven for thinking them, considering the amount of pain he’s in even with the no doubt extremely good drugs he was on. HE had no idea how long he was focused on these particular questions; with no sense of time in his state, it could have been mere minutes, or even several hours. He simply didn’t know, and likely couldn’t care less. That is, until his concentration was broken by the subject himself.

_That is quite possibly the worst hat hair I’ve ever seen._

And it was true. As Hanzo was finding out, McCree wore his hat so often that it made an almost permanent impression on his hair, even when he wasn’t wearing it. The ridiculous bedhead didn’t help either, and Hanzo almost chuckled at the look.

God, he was on some nice drugs.

One thing niggled at his mind however, as he stared the flailing and choking man who had only just realized he was awake. _That red blur,_ he thought to himself, a faint memory of another painful moment in his life trying to come to the forefront. It looked so familiar; from the red blur standing over him at that singular second most terrifying moment in his life, to the red blur that was his last memory before waking up in the infirmary— he was ever so slowly starting to see the similarities. Could it be…?

“Hey now, look who’s awake.” The cowboy finally spluttered out.  He had dark rings around his eyes and one hand clutching his coffee like a lifeline. Hanzo stared; apparently a bit too long since McCree started to sweat a little, giving him an odd look.

Hanzo opened his mouth, readying a sarcastic remark towards the older man’s appearance. “Why?” came out in a hoarse voice. Not what he wanted to say. Why do the drugs have to affect his mental capacities as well? McCree blinked in confusion.

“Why what?” a simple question with presumably a simple answer. Now if only he could retain some of his dignity…

“Back then. In the warehouse. You saved me.” Never mind, apparently Hanzo was no longer allowed to have secrets or dignity. HE wanted to keep that thought a secret, find out if it actually was McCree before asking. That apparently wasn’t happening.

A long, startled pause. Hanzo stared some more, because if he wasn’t allowed to keep to keep his thoughts to himself he at least wanted to keep some measure of pride— he wasn’t going to look away from his mistakes.

 But the pause was a bit too long, in the end. Perhaps McCree knew this and didn’t want to answer, or it simply was a coincidence that he began to speak as soon as Hanzo fell back to sleep. Either way, Hanzo didn’t get to hear an answer; but he got the feeling that McCree would still be there when he woke up; the hat was still there, after all.

And McCree never leaves behind his hat.

**_End._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> “竜が我が敵を喰らう!” -Let the Dragon consume you! (Hanzo's Ult)  
> “竜神の剣をくらえ！” -The Dragon beomces me! (Genji's Ult)  
> “Mày muốn cái gì?” -What do you want?  
> “Ta tới đây để nói chuyện với Nguyễn về trái thạch lựu của họ” - I'm here to talk to Nguyễn about their pomegranates.  
> “Tại sao Nguyễn nên gặp mày?” -And why should Nguyễn see you?  
> “Ta có tiền” -I've got the Money.  
> My part for the Overwatch Big Bang! Art by todouxmaka, located at:  
> http://todouxmaka.tumblr.com/post/155277405845  
> Go and check it out!


End file.
